Monthly Archives: December 2024

Reflecting on Luke 2:41-52

Don’t you wish we knew more about the Holy Family?  We’d love to know about Joseph, the silent protector of Mary and Jesus.  He utters not a word in scripture, yet his humility in accepting God’s miraculous work and his divine role in that unfolding makes him the perfect model for all fathers who strive to protect and defend their children.

The earliest artistic rendering of Mary is a fresco, c. 150 A.D., in the Catacomb of Priscilla in Rome.  It’s so touching to see her protectively cradling Jesus on this ancient wall upon which the martyrs of Rome carved their faith. At this time, a book appeared, The First Gospel of James, which was immediately beloved by the Christian communities in Rome.  Though never accepted as part of the canon of the New Testament, it contrived to give background stories of Mary and Joseph that we crave to know even today.

In this popular second-century book, for example, we discover the names of Mary’s parents. Can you name them? If you are—ahem—of a certain age, you can jump up with, “Yes! They are Anna and Joachim!” And HOW do you know that? Well, it’s nowhere in scripture, but it IS in this First Gospel (or Protoevangelum) of James, which practically no one has read, but it was so important to the tradition of the Church that their names are even preserved in the Catechism.

We have so many questions about them. When we see them in heaven, we can get all the answers.

What would you most like to ask Joseph or Mary?

Kathy McGovern c. 2024

Reflecting on Psalm 98:1, 2-3, 3-4, 5-6

Peace, health, and love be with you, dear friends. Today marks our fourteenth Christmas Day together in this space. I am overwhelmed with gratitude.

I am overwhelmed, too, with awareness of the times during this past year when all the ends of the earth realized the saving power of God. I’m thinking especially today of the overthrow of brutal Bashar-al-Assad of Syria. The new regime promises a more moderate image and has vowed to rebuild a Syria inclusive of the religions and ethnic groups that constitute the country.

Time will tell, of course, but today, thousands of prisoners have been released from his notorious prisons, and jubilant rallies of hope fill Damascus. What a Christmas present for the six million Syrian refugees who risked their lives to get to safety. May they find safe transport home, to a country of peace. Prisoners are released, and those who were lost return. It is the saving power of God, we pray. Time will tell.

But, closer to home, how has the saving power of God manifested in your life this year? Have you experienced relief from illness in any way? Has there been any breakthrough in a difficult relationship? Have you found a parish community that is welcoming and thriving? Have you discovered a deeper peace within yourself? On this Feast of the Nativity, meditate on that creche. Where in your life has it seemed like Guardian Angels were present to you?

Where has your encounter with humble people, like the shepherds, caused you to ponder deeply God’s presence in the lowly of heart?

Give yourself that gift this year. Find yourself in that Christmas scene. And give glory to God in the highest.

For what encounters with God’s saving presence are you most grateful?

Kathy McGovern ©2024

This might be the richest, most beautiful story in all of Luke’s gospel, and, of course, only Luke knows it. That makes sense. It’s about Mary, after all, and another woman, and the hidden strength of those who are poor (like the child in Elizabeth’s womb).  Whew. It took us three years, but we are finally back to this profound gospel.

Think about this young girl. The mysterious angel has announced to her that she has been chosen to be the mother of God. And not only that, but to give her strength to believe, the angel tells her the extraordinary news that her aging, infertile cousin is now pregnant!

What does this loving young lady do next? She heads out immediately for the ninety-mile journey to the hill country of Judea to visit Elizabeth, and to stay with her to help her during her third trimester. And here’s where it gets really good. As she and Jesus—a tiny embryo in Mary’s womb—enter the house of Elizabeth and Zechariah, the six-month embryo in Elizabeth’s womb leaps for joy.

It’s the littleness of it all that gives it all away. Two women embrace, and the world is changed forever. And in that embrace, two tiny embryos touch, and the mighty power of God is unleashed. As Fr. John McKenzie, SJ, asked, “Could we believe that the promise God wove into our very souls might give birth to something big?” Out of the hidden smallness of Bethlehem rose the shepherd of all the world. We, the little of the world, wait, and trust. God is using our kernels of faith to build something to last until the end of time.

What little thing do you do each day that makes the world better?

Kathy McGovern c. 2024

Reflecting on Philippians 4: 4-7

Anxiety. Isn’t that the epidemic of our age? I read a story recently about a college student who couldn’t use her meal card because it had been torn, and she was too anxious to speak to the person in the office who could replace it. She wanted her mom to drive her meals to her dorm daily to save her from walking into the office and asking for a new card.

I have a feeling this story resonates with more people than we know. The challenge of looking someone in the eye and speaking to them is somehow so terrifying that those afflicted with crippling anxiety would rather isolate themselves than accomplish the normal interactions that are so vital to a happy life.

Compare this story to Paul’s letter to the Philippians, written around 62 AD, while Paul was in prison in Rome, awaiting execution. A Roman citizen, St. Paul knew that he would be spared the torture of the crucifixion with his Lord endured. Beheading was the normal mode of execution for those lucky enough to be citizens.

But still. He’s in chains in Rome. He knows that the next person at his door could be his executioner. And what does he write to his beloved little community in Philippi? Have no anxiety at all, but everything in prayer and supplication. From whence comes this serenity, this perfect peace?

That moment on the road to Damascus, of course, held him tight for the rest of his life. This is what I pray for all of us: that we might hold fast to the grace of our baptisms, and let that grace keep us in peace and strength.

How will you use this beautiful Advent season to allay anxiety?

Kathy McGovern ©2024  

Reflecting on Luke 3: 1-6

Ah, the tetrarchs of Rome. Remember them? Nope. Surely the High Priests have some inspiring words that have lived on in memory? Not really.

In the clamor and chaos of these “mighty rulers,” only one voice has survived the ages: the voice of the Baptizer. We can hear him even now, shouting in the wilderness to the throngs who’ve come to see this man with the garments of camel’s hair, eating locusts and wild honey. He preaches a baptism of forgiveness! And preaches HOPE to those who’ve walked in darkness for so long. What about him draws so many out to the dry, thirsty desert to hear him, and to be baptized in the Jordan River?

For that matter, fast forward just thirty years and listen to the words that St. Paul spoke to the Philippians so memorably: And this is my prayer, that your love may increase ever more and more. Think about that. He’s writing in chains in Rome (where he will eventually be beheaded), yet his warm letter to this little community is filled with HOPE that their work (and his) will be brought to completion in Christ Jesus.

Even Baruch, writing in the far exile of Babylon, is filled with HOPE that those “led away on foot by their enemies…will be brought back, borne aloft in glory.” We stop here to remember the hostages of October 7^th, and the 44,000 killed to avenge them.

The authors of these Advent readings commanded us to live in HOPE. Let’s take their strong words to heart. I will say that, in the cancer community, these things remain: faith, hope, and love. And the greatest of these is HOPE.

What HOPE do you share, through the witness of your life?

Kathy McGovern ©2024